


this is where i often drown (and sink and float and sink and float)

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-29
Updated: 2009-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Katie is better at the things she can't do.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is where i often drown (and sink and float and sink and float)

  
I burnt my tongue on you. Now I've lost all sense of taste. Or decency.  
\-- _pleasefindthis_

 

 

She watches Katie, because that is what she is good at. Watching.

Katie is good at many things: there is the practiced way she flirts with boys, all light, quick touches, only hints of things to come; the way how, when she kisses someone, she's never wholly involved, doesn't press herself up against him, and the way she stands makes Effy think of stage directions and three-quarters; Katie tosses her hair in the picture-perfect way that Effy thinks is meant to impress someone (she is not sure who, perhaps everyone), but which she herself finds rather dull and tired.

What she finds more intriguing are the things that Katie is not good at: the way she blushes and gets flustered and angry when things don't go the way she wants them to; the way she can't stand rejection, in any sort of form; how she seems to want to push her sister away and chain her to her side at the same time. And then there is Effy, who Katie both seems to loathe and adore at the same time and it's interesting, how she runs hot and cold. Effy likes that side of Katie, the unpredictable, unsure side of her.

Katie is better at the things she can't do.

 

;;

 

On the days when Katie is running hot, she'll rummage around in her purse for a pack of fags, will shake out one for herself and one for Effy (who doesn't really need it, because she has her own, but there's no point in refusing a handout) and she'll light her own cigarette before passing the lighter over with one of those smiles that Effy is sure everyone but her would love to see.

And they'll stand outside school smoking, sometimes leaning against the brick wall, or near the bleachers next to the football pitch, but they'll never just stand there in silence. Katie will talk about the party she went to last evening (when Effy was out with Cook sharing a bottle of vodka and a MDMA tab) or the new top that she bought the weekend prior (all of Effy's clothes are ones she bought at second hand shops, because she likes how they always surprise her with unexpected beauty) or maybe how she shagged that footy player that she's dating (he can't be that sensational of a fuck, Effy thinks or Katie would spend more time with him -- or maybe she just doesn't put out as much as she says she does).

Effy won't talk; she'll just listen. And when she finishes her fag, she'll drop it to the ground and crush it out with her heel and that will be that.

Katie doesn't seem to mind all that much, her silence, on these sort of days.

 

;;

 

"Here," Katie says, and passes her the bottle of vodka.

Effy can see smudges of Katie's lipstick on the rim, a purplish-red colour that would look terrible on anyone else that Effy knows. But seems to work somehow for Katie, and that's what Effy likes about her, the fact that Katie works so hard to perfect things that Effy herself could give a toss about. She tips her head back and takes an easy swig of it; she's so used to the burn that she barely notices it these days.

The club is crowded, but that's expected, of course. Effy likes these type of places best, the dark and full ones, where people who think they're safe and unseen carry on things that they don't want anyone else to know about. She's seen it with Emily and Naomi (if Naomi accepts the invite, that is), the way Emily's eyes dart across to glance at her every five or six seconds and the way she just openly stares sometimes, when Katie's fucked off to the loo or to see her boyfriend or outside for a smoke.

She doesn't care if she's dancing with someone or alone. One is always better than the other, of course, but it all depends on the situation.

Katie appears in front of her after several long minutes of dancing alone, and it's most likely the combination of vodka and coke that's making her move in closer than usual, but Effy doesn't mind. She's never thought of Katie as a prude, after all, just usually scared of doing something that will make her question herself, scared to try something new and different. And so she lets Katie take the reins and guide them towards wherever they're going.

(It could lead to a shared fag outside in the alley beside the club or Katie tossing later in the bathroom or maybe to Effy dialing a cab and bringing them both back to her house, to her bedroom, just to see if maybe Emily and Katie aren't all that different after all.

It's not the end result she's worried about, though, just the process of getting there.)

 

;;

 

The first kiss is rather unexpected.

In the bathroom, Katie stumbles, pissed; when she falls against Effy and looks up at her with lovely dark brown eyes that remind Effy of old wood panelling, like polished mahogany, and with lips painted a new ruby red colour, it seems like the only natural thing to do is to kiss her. And Katie lets her, lets her lean in and press their mouths together, lets Effy's tongue sweep along her bottom lip; Effy can feel Katie's nails digging into her shoulders, thinks there will probably be marks there tomorrow when she wakes up.

Katie doesn't react the way Effy expects her to, which is to say that she doesn't shove Effy away once it's over, just stands there looking surprised. Surprised and flushed, and Effy's pretty sure that if she were to kiss her again, Katie wouldn't pull away or say no or tell her to fuck off.

But it's better not to push things.

 

;;

 

On the days when Katie is running cold, Effy finds her more interesting.

She doesn't mind the way Katie glares at her across the room in Literature class or the way Katie doesn't tag after her in the hallways after classes have been let out or how when Effy sits down beside her in Politics class Katie lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes. It's how she expects Katie to act after all, and she'd be disappointed if things didn't play out exactly like that.

These sort of days mean that they won't smoke outside before school that morning and Effy won't hear about how completely off her tits Katie was the night before or the new outfit she bought that makes her look well fit or something involving her and her tosser boyfriend that no one but Katie wants to know about. On these days Katie will stalk off after classes are over, without so much as a single word in Effy's direction.

Effy doesn't chase after her, of course. First and foremost, she simply doesn't need to; Katie's the only who always comes back in the end, because one thing that Katie is not very good at is pretending like she doesn't actually give a shit.

And second of all, chasing is not something Effy's good at.

 

;;

 

She wonders what Katie would say -- or what she would _do_ , because it's always more interesting to see what someone does rather than what they say, because it's their actions that never lie, even if their mouths and words do -- if she were to corner Katie and kiss her again.

 

;;

 

Katie's newly single.

She informs Effy of this while they're lighting up outside during their lunch break, standing on the steps of the college's main entrance. Effy exhales heavily, flicks her cigarette away and lights another one instantly, with a practiced ease. Katie's still working on her first; the smoke's drifting up into lazy curls, which makes Effy think of the steam rising off a cup of tea and that time when she was younger and burned her tongue and didn't speak for two weeks afterward.

The bell rings just as Effy's finishing up her second fag.

Katie sighs, grinding her own fag out into the cement with her heel. "Freddie's well fit, isn't he," she says, and her face is completely unreadable for once, so Effy doesn't know if it's a calculated statement or just a passing thought voiced out loud. But it hangs there in the heavy silence between them, and her shoulders feel unusually heavy when she shrugs and keeps on walking.

 

;;

 

In Effy's bed, Katie looks rather small and lovely. Or maybe it's just because her bed is so big and her duvet is so white that it brings out all the hues of red that make up Katie: lipstick, hair, shoes, nail polish. Each one a carefully selected shade, never off-putting or clashing, always sweet and hot and enticing and pretty all at once. She makes Effy think of setting suns, with all their different reds, the way they're bright and burning and sometimes make her eyes hurt when she stares at them for too long.

The red she likes best is the flush that creeps up Katie's body, starting somewhere around her chest and spreading upwards to her neck and face, such a pretty pink colour, and it of course matches perfectly, because this is Katie, and everything is all about appearances and looking outward and the lies on the surface of things.

(The upwards blush gets Effy thinking about blood and veins and hearts and the truth of Katie slowly bleeding out of her, in the silence and darkness of her bedroom.)

Katie doesn't let her go that far; she isn't that drunk.

Instead of tongues pressed between bare thighs, it's a hand up Katie's skirt and under her knickers, stroking clumsily because of the angle. Effy isn't sure why this is okay or how one thing counts when others don't, and she would ask, if she could, if Katie's mouth wasn't covering hers or if she thought Katie would give her a straight answer. Or an answer at all.

When she comes, it's very quietly, with a shudder, nails digging into Effy's forearm, teeth splitting open her bottom lip from biting down too hard on it.

(And it's red red red, what Katie is.)

Effy licks away the blood from her lip, then her fingers; the taste of Katie and copper linger in her mouth long after Katie's left.


End file.
